


Snake-eyed Giants

by OrsFri



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Femslash, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrsFri/pseuds/OrsFri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The thing about girls is this:"</p><p>Anna is painfully in love with her best friend. Too bad she's not going to do anything about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gari - f!Prussia  
> Anna (Anya) - f!Russia  
> Ilia (Ilyusha) - m!Ukraine  
> Natalya (Natasha) - Belarus

The thing about girls is this:

Soft edges sharp curves, the delicate slope of fingers and the curling of toes. The way the skirt swish- _swishes_ and the pants goes from hug to slope and the subtle lightness in every voice.

There is something definitive in femininity, something quiet and faint the same way masculinity lurks unbidden in unseen corners of the human genome. Anna gets this in the same way that she _gets_ unexplained parts of biology; hormones rushing and senses overloading, and oh, look - it is that pretty girl from their shared Maths lecture. Look - it is the girl that Anna always ended up being in the same class with since she was nine, and my, puberty has done her well. And there is that girl-!

It’s really not hard to understand where the attraction stems from. It’s just simple biology, just human genomes and chemicals that determine preferences. It explains everything.

“It explains _nothing,_ Anya,” Natalya argues, finally looking up from her phone. The phone subsequently chimes, before getting cut off and chimed twice repeatedly. Natalya frowns. “Group chat. Sorry.”

Anna shakes her head. “I know it sounds rather abstract-”

“It sounds _very_ abstract.” Natalya finally puts her phone down. “Are you saying that attraction is purely biological? Because if that is the case, you have horrible genes.”

“I.” Anna closes her mouth. “Are you implying that I have terrible taste in girlfriends?”

“I did not say that. You did.” She is snickering as she raises both hands in the air. “But I’m not denying it, Anya. Your genes are attracted towards some unconventionally horrible types of girls. Remember the crop-top blonde?”

Anna does, sadly, remember the crop-top blonde. Their relationship has lasted a grand total of two weeks, before the ex starts flirting brazenly the moment Anna’s back is turned, and no, Anna is not being overly sensitive. Crop-top blonde has a _reputation._

“I give people the benefit of a doubt,” she defends.

“More like your _hormones_ give pretty blonde girls the benefit of a doubt.” Natalya snorts. Anna throws a cushion at her, and stomps away to some other room to sulk.

* * *

Gari slides into the chair beside Anna like an avalanche - that is, not smoothly at all, but loud and raucous and gaining the attention of everyone within a ten foot radius, but she managed to get to her seat, nonetheless.

She follows Anna’s gaze to the crowd by the wall. “Damn, look at those pecs.” She wolf-whistles. “Wait, I thought you don’t swing both ways?”

“I don’t. I only swing one very crooked way.”

Gari’s guffaws turn even more heads - it is how Gari is: everything about her is big and messy and never, _ever_ subtle. Gari likes to reason that she doesn’t do things halfway. Anna rebuts that she is simply uncouth. The argument has been quickly shut down by their friends before they can claw each others’ eyes out. “Oh yeah. Couldn’t see from my angle. That’s Ilia right?”

Anna tries not to stab too hard at her cake. “He’s too nice to say no.”

“That poor cake is innocent; go stab those girls instead.” It earns Gari a glare; Anna _tried._ “Don’t worry honey, anyone mess with too-pure-for-the-world brother of thee, Natalya will sic her gang on them. Those girls won’t even see it coming.”

“But what if Ilyusha has his heart _broken_? Natalya can’t sic her gang on _that_ girl. It’ll only make him sadder.”

Gari pats her sympathetically on the shoulder. “Damn, I feel you. I have a baby brother too, and he is so naive that I think he’ll one day be tricked into marriage. Thinking about it gives me a few more strands of white hair.”

“You’re an albino, Gari.”

“Semantics.” She flicks her wrist. “Anyway, I am already planning my strategies for any potential revenge. I can share them with you.” Gari pauses. “Huh. Do you think Luddy will get a date first or will it be your brother?”

Anna groans, slamming her fork down instead. “Come on, I’ve lost my appetite.” She stands up. “Let’s go.”

Gari leans away dramatically, a hand clutching her chest. “But I only just got here! And - hey, don’t waste food!”

“Eat it yourself then.”

Gari pierces the whole of the remaining cake, and stuff it into her mouth in one huge bite.

“Gross.” Anna pauses. “Please don’t choke.”

For a moment, it looks like Gari will die a disgustingly messy death of cream and chewed cake spewing from her mouth; then she swallows, finishing with a loud burp and a thumbs-up at Anna.

Anna sighs.

* * *

There is an unnoticeable space beneath the staircase at the end of the computer labs that has a small gap that leads to this tiny alley-like gap between the building and the deserted technician shed with that huge yellow “DANGER” sign that warns of electrocution but in actuality has a zero death record because no one ever manages to figure out how to get into a room with no openings other then a locked metal door with no obvious keyhole.

It is also the best place to skip class without ever being found out.

Gari used to call it their secret spot. It evolves into _the Rendezvous_ (Anna blames Marianne’s influence), before becoming the Hideout, and finally evolving into the “Hole-in-the-Wall”, which will always be accompanied with an eyebrow wriggle that leaves no doubts as to _which_ meaning Gari is referring to.

The wrong anatomy aside, Anna is faintly scandalised to realise that the description is actually appropriate.

She immediately fishes a beer can from the cardboard box lying inconspicuously beside the gap (“Gari, it is a _great_ idea, no one will notice another box behind what looks like a _storage shed._ ”), pressing both knees against the wall to wedge herself up as she waits for Gari to shuffle out beside her.

She flicks the can tab at Gari, laughing quietly at the way it makes Gari stumble to catch it as Anna takes a gulp. The tang hits first, coiling unpleasantly down her chest; the better part - the _lightness_ settles a few seconds in. It is weak, but the presence of it is enough to break down the stiffness in her limbs to something more lax than she has felt for _days._

“Bless alcohol,” she mutters, passing the can to Gari.

Gari likes to describe the act of drinking as that of _unfurling._ “You go soft,” she once told Anna. “Like - like a doll. You transformed from porcelain to rag.” It is followed by a series of stammerings that goes like _not that I meant it insultingly,_ and _um, a cotton doll? But that’s stuffed and firm -_ before Anna leaned in and kissed the rest of Gari’s words away. So. Anna likes alcohol, likes the way it relaxes her, even if the alcohol content is meagre and pathetic like this cheap beer they are sharing between them now.

“Gari,” she says, after the quiet drags on too long.

Moments like this are the only time when Gari is quiet - and even then she makes small noises to fill the silence. Like: the sound of drinking, the soft huffs of laughter, the stifled moans and gasps when things are good and _feels_ good. Gari drops the can after a final swig and steps forward, an elbow pressed against the wall beside Anna’s head as she leans, leans forward and closer until all that exist is the warmth on their lips and the breath in their lungs and the soft flutter of eyelashes on each other’s cheekbones.

It lasts a few minutes or it lasts a split second; Gari draws back with a smack and her breath is so, _so_ loud. “Ah,” she whispers, and Anna drops a leg to hook around Gari’s knees.

Gari leans in closer this time, legs slotting between Anna’s and abdomen pressing together. She pushes as Anna draws, eyes wide and that grin of hers still present but milder, gentler, and it is almost a smile if Anna believes that this is something more. But they are teenagers with shitty genes that prefers the more unconventional sex, and this is as much convenience as it is desperation, two best friends doing each other a favour - nothing more. So she mutters again, “Gari,” and _Gari_ licks her lips before finally pressing forward.

And Anna lets the heat churn and roll through her, deep and simmering all the way from her skin down to her bones, as their hands clutch and slip through hair, stroking and caressing and touching, and - and Anna is ashamed to say this feels like everything she has ever wanted.

* * *

The thing about Gari is this:

Anna likes her. Anna _loves_ her. Anna loves her very much since the day that crashed together and found out they are a _pair_ within the group and has been such ever since. Anna loves her when it is still platonic and loves her when it turns sexual and loves her even more when whatever this thing is between them started, even though she will never dare assume, never dare to wish too hard - better not jinx it, you see, she understands the fleetingness of young love - and so it is that she doesn’t tell Gari how much she loves that Gari tastes like fire and ashes and _smoke_ and that even though Anna knows it is from the cigarettes Gari smoked, Anna still like to think of it as something more allegorical and representative of who Gari is.

And the thing about Gari is that she never pushes where it matters, and that she always tip-toes around the most blatant of observations about _feelings_ , wispy and uncertain even though her voice holds enough steel to command an _army,_ much less the female volleyball team.

Gari has told her before (Gari has told her a lot of things) that her confidence is just an act, that the whole trio: Marianne, Lucía, her - all three of them are the way they are because they are _overcompensating._ (And she says this with a laugh, and that is how Anna _knows._ It breaks her heart.)

And this, whatever this is they have in the tiny gap behind the shed, is enough for Anna.

(Gari pulls back. She stares at Anna. Anna stares back at her. They lean in and kiss. Gari pulls back.

Repeat ad infinitum.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter is 90% wrangling with the pacing and 10% deciding to just screw it and post.

Anna finds Gari chatting with Natalya after school, because obviously Gari has earned honorary family member status without having to be one of Natalya's closest friends, and decides to descend upon them with a casual arm flung around each of their shoulders from the back.

"What are you talking about?" she asks. Gari jumps. Natalya, to her credit, does not even flinch.

"Ilyusha," Natalya replies smoothly instead, crossing her legs. "My gang is ready to stir shit up."

Anna narrows her eyes at Gari. "What are you _not_ telling me?"

Gari, for the love of God, _squeaks._ "Nothing!"

"Yes, and that is why your voice cracks."

It is enough to make Gari squirm. "I'm." Her eyes dart anxiously to Natalya. "Recruiting your sister. You know. To protect Luddy's virtue."

"Lies. You already have your war plans mapped out. You would have recruited Natasha already _._ "

If it is possible, Gari shrinks even more. Natalya glares at Anna from the corner of her eyes, and well well, look who actually managed to buy Natalya's goddamn _loyalty_? Anna squints her eyes to make sure Natalya knows that _they will have words_ later, before nudging Gari in the shoulder. "Ah never mind. Keep your secrets. Come on."

She drags Gari away by the sleeve before the latter can response. When they make the turn into the main corridor, Anna drops her arm. Gari has to run a little to catch up.

The silence stews for a while before Gari caves. "Are you angry?" she asks, tossing quick glances at Anna.

"No." Anna is not angry. Anna is _annoyed;_ frustrated and out of her mind - almost irrationally - with it, because Gari _never_ lies to her, and while it is perfectly fine (and nice and normal) to keep one's own secrets, Anna draws a line at lying. "Why would I be? I said it's fine."

"Actually, you said never mind."

Anna halts so abruptly that Gari stumbles. "Look, I said it's fine, so it's _fine._ Stop harping about it." She continues walking. Gari does not speak. "Come over to my house today?"

Gari startles. "Today? I-uh." Anna resists the urge to tap her foot impatiently. "No. I've a match on Saturday noon, so there's practice today." A hesitation. "You're coming right?"

"Of course."

"Yeah, awesome." Gari's voice is abnormally flat, enough that Anna finally stops to look at her.

Gari is already staring at her, eyes wide and confused. When their eyes meet, she _fidgets_ , shoulders jolting, before she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. A nervous tic, Anna remembers, when Gari is uncertain and disoriented.

"Hey," Anna mutters, leaning closer into Gari's space. "I'm really not angry. I'm not."

"I know," says Gari, and petulance tinges the edge of her words. "But you're unhappy." _And throwing a tantrum,_ is left unsaid, because Anna knows that Gari knows she will not be able to take that blow to her pride without reacting, and no one is looking for a fight.

 _Just let it_ go, she thinks, eyes fluttering shut as she sucks in a sharp breath. When she opens her eyes, Gari is staring at her with a weirdly pinched look that she gets when she is thinking.

"Gari," she says, "Can we drop it? Please?"

Anna likes to think that it is the _please_ that does it, because Gari gapes at her in surprise, before squeezing her eyes shut and swearing quietly under her breath. It gives Anna a split second to wonder what Gari is thinking right now, except then Gari _moves_.

Gari slings her arms across Anna's waist, tentatively, and it shouldn't make Anna's heart speed up, but it _does._ Her breath catches in her throat when Gari's hands lace behind her lower back, and then, _then,_ Gari leans up on her tiptoes to press a chaste kiss on Anna's lips. "Yeah," she says, before leaning in again, this time kissing Anna deeper.

Anna is almost disappointed when Gari draws back, but an arm around the waist stays, warm and solid against Anna's skin where her shirt rides up. The arm tightens. "Let's go?"

Anna swings an arm down too, splay it across Gari's hip. The bones jut unpleasantly against her palm, and Anna thumbs absent-mindedly at it. "Alright."

* * *

Anna spends the entire Friday avoiding Gari, because she is childish like that. It's not that she doesn't recognise it - she is painfully self-aware (Anna mourns that every waking moment) - but it doesn't make acting her age and actually _let things go_ any easier, no matter what she has hypocritically told Gari.

Which is why, in a fit of frustration, she barges right into the crowd of girls surrounding Ilia with her elbows sticking out and her feet decked in the sharpest stiletto she has. It only takes two stomped feet and three fallen casualties before everyone else parts like the Red Sea and Anna drags Ilia smoothly away to a spare table.

"Are you alright?" Ilia's forehead is creased as he rubs circles on the back of her hand.

Gosh, Anna loves Ilia. She will shove over a million more fangirls and punch a million more noses for Ilia. "Been better." She turns her hand over so that their palms are pressing against each other. "Can't a sister miss her big brother?"

Ilia's eyebrows raises so high it disappears under his fringe. "You don't _miss_ me. You develop hypersensitive protective streaks towards me." He frowns. "You and Natasha both. I do not know whether to be pleased or worried for my future girl."

"We shall see," Anna says gravely, removing her hand to pat on Ilia's shoulder. "I promise I would behave for at least the first hour when you bring her home."

" _Anya._ "

"I also promise to put in a good word to Mama and Papa, and convince Natasha to hold off her gang."

"You know, we always joke about Natasha's group of friends, but have you ever thought how much they actually resemble a _real_ gang?" Ilia wonders, crossing his legs. The pants ride up slightly, revealing his Mickey Mouse socks. Sometimes, Anna wonders how is Ilia so popular. "Huh. What about Gari? Are you inviting her too? She earns an honorary seat in the household, I think. Mama _hates_ her and Papa _adores_ her. It's like watching an episode of some sitcom on Netflix."

Anna stiffens. "I'll ask her about it."

"Ask?" His eyebrows raise higher. " _Ohhh."_

"What." She quickly grabs a snack bar from her backpack and tosses it at Ilia. Ilia fumbles with it comically as it tumbles down between his legs, before snatching it a bare inch from the ground. From a distance, a wistful chorus of _awws_ can be heard. It's rather disturbing.

Ilia straightens up, smoothing down his shirt like any clumsiness has never occurred. "I don't know." He shrugs nonchalantly. "I thought that I have never remembered any instant when Gari ever says _no_ to you." 

Anna takes it back. She does not love Ilia. Ilia is a perceptive little shit. "She rejected me yesterday for volleyball prac."

"Says no voluntarily then," Ilia amends, "she has _responsibility,_ like the good team captain she is." He unwraps his bar and bites into it.

Anna pouts.

"Aww," Ilia says, and pats her on the head.

Anna exercises an amazing feat of self-control and does not bite his hand. Instead, she simply smacks it away. "You're messing up my hair."

"That's impossible. Our family genes gifted us with wondrously perfect, smooth silky hair. It'll take a hurricane for it to look dishevelled, and even then, it'll be the _good_ kind of dishevelled." Then he grimaces. "That is the most egoistic thing I've ever said. Please rinse it out of your head."

"This sounds like something one of your gaggle of followers will say."

" _It is,_ and I'm starting to think there may be some semblance of truth in it. But don't be so mean to them, Anya. They're actually quite nice, if you disregard the way they surround me everytime I just happen to stand alone because Natasha left me for her gang and you left me for Gari."

 _Aaand_ look how the conversation circles back. Anna groans, and buries her face in her palms. "I losed out to _balls,_ Ilyusha. Fucking balls."

"I hope that is not an innuendo in any way. That'll make it much worse." He proceeds to level her with the driest look of mock-sympathy ever humanely possible.

Anna sucks in a deep breath, forcing herself to exhale slowly. Then she decides to hell with brotherly affection and decks him on the head.

* * *

Sometimes, Anna wakes up on a quiet morning alone, and stares at the emptiness across her bed.

(She thinks, it happens this way: Anna blinking the sleep out of her eyes, and sees Gari; grinning wide and drowsy as she purrs, _hello, good morning sweetheart._

Anna's heart _trips,_ like the bumbling girl of a heart it is, and in retrospect, Anna should know that there it is, there is the first sign that what they have may be something more, something that transcends the mess of horny make-out sessions and the cuddles in sleepovers that have become all too familiar over the years.

But it is too early in the morning for feelings to be coherent, so Anna, then, smiles back and snuggles closer. Yet every time after, when Gari grins at her, slow and lazy and filled with the dizzy sensation of contentment, Anna's throat dries up and she thinks back to the first of it that she is aware of, Gari lying inches away from her, and if she leans in, they will be sharing the same breath like the rest of the world is narrowed down to the narrow space between them.

But Gari is not here now.)

She checks her phone; Gari hasn't messaged. Anna rolls over, thinks that, well, she is royally _fucked._

* * *

Here are some more things about Gari:

She wears a lot of skincare. 

She wears contacts.

She loves sports.

Anna is reminded of these as she watches Gari trots out to the court, her skin glistening with layers of sunscreen and her eyes shining dark from her contacts.

It is fortunate that the match will be held indoors, or Gari will have to sit out again.

Anna remembers the previous one. Gari is forced to sit out due to her condition, even though she is _team captain_ and the best player by a far shot. What ensues is the greatest sulk Anna has ever witnessed in their friendship history, that quickly descends into agonised shrieking and angry cusses when their school team loses.

Their school team gathers for one last cheer. When they break apart, Gari moves into position, but instead of eyeing the opponent like the rest of her team-mates, she turns around to scan the crowd.

Then Gari finds Anna, and her face splits into the brightest grin Anna has ever seen in - in two days, actually, because Gari has the brightest grin and she grins _so much_ when she is with Anna.

It probably says something. It _definitely_ says something, but that doesn't mean Anna needs to read into it. She smiles back and waves quickly.

Gari manages a small wave back, before her one of her team-mates hisses at her. Anna watches as Gari's posture shifts to become sharper: her body going tighter and brimming with adrenaline as the smile slips away and her eyes burn bright and fierce.

Then the opponent serves, and the game begins.

Anna tries to follow the match, but really, volleyball has never been her thing. Her mind buzzes out embarrassingly fast, eyes absent-mindedly tracking the ball bouncing up and forward and the occasional out. Gari remains in her peripheral, and she darts in sudden spurts, muscle clenching as she moves.

Then the opponents delivered particularly shabby spike that sends Gari diving across the court to receive, and fuck, her shirt is riding up to reveal the arch of her back. Sweat droplets sliding down in smooth lines down her spine as Gari pushes herself up from the ground on one elbow, the curve of her thighs in those painfully skimpy shorts bared for the entire court to see before she stands and smooths it out.

Anna throws a quick scan around, and of course, no one notices that little hiccup at such a tensed moment except for those disgusting jocks leering two rows down. That, and Anna obviously. She curses her brain and squeezes her thighs harder together, and hopes that anyone that notices the flush on her face will dismiss that as excitement from watching the game.

The rest of the game feels almost uneventful after that. There is certainly moments when she catches more flashes of skin, and then there is that final rush for the last hurray, but Gari's team manages to snitch a narrow victory. Their side of the stadium explodes into cheers and unrestrained shrieks, but Anna remains sitting and watches Gari flushes, eyes trailing the sweat trickling down the side of her face and into the crook of her neck down in-between her breast as she gulps down water. Her shirt is so drenched that Anna can see the curved wires of the blue bra showing through, an ugly mash of colour against the yellow of their school colours. Gari pulls at the shirt to flap it, trying to produce the little wind to cool down the redness of her neck, but the movement only makes the sharp lines of her body more obvious as the fabric slaps against the edges.

Anna gulps.

As if on cue, Gari looks up, and grins lazily at Anna. She mouths _later_ , but the only thing Anna can think of is how it is no different from those moments of intimacy in which Gari, lips kissed-red and shining with drool, mutters too breathlessly too close to Anna's mouth.

* * *

Gari doesn't knock to enter the house. Gari doesn't sneak in via the windows like a secret rendezvous or a modern embarrassing imitation of Romeo and Juliet.

Gari simply trails in behind any of the siblings, and sometimes Papa, although Mama will slam the door in Gari's face but feels guilty enough approximately two seconds later to begrudgingly open the door and usher Gari in anyway.

What is surprising is therefore not how Gari ended up in her room, but how Gari ended up in her room _before_ Anna reaches her own room.

"Is there a mysterious teleportation device from our school to my bedroom that you've not been telling me about?" Anna says, and makes it a point to sit on Gari's belly.

Gari jolts and squirms away with a choked _oomph,_ curving her body around Anna's waist as she makes space on the tiny bed. ("You sleep on a _single?!"_ "Makes laundry easier. And I don't move around much in my sleep, unlike _some_ people.")

"You would think," Gari says, conveniently sliding her hand up Anna's thigh. Sneaky. "But no, I'm just fast like that. Like _sonic."_

Anna slaps the hand away.

Gari makes a noise of mock-hurt, before downright snaking her hand _up_ Anna's spine. "Come on, I'm sore all over to get our school to the _finals._ It's only right that I get some rewards for it. Where's the music, the food, the ladies? Or _lady,_ in your case." She wriggles her eyebrows.

"You're shameless," Anna tells her, but she can feel the edges of her lips twitching up. She turns over properly, pressing Gari's shoulders back so that they are flat against the bed, and Anna lets her hair fall so that they curtain both of them away from the rest of the room, Anna's lips pressing chastely at the edge of Gari's. "Are you staying over?"

"I would say yes, except I think my family wants to celebrate." She shrugs. "Will be leaving slightly before dinner."

"That's sad." Anna slides her nose down and along Gari's jawline, and buries her face at the soft dip of Gari's neck right above her right collarbone. Gari shivers. "I want to properly congratulate you too."

She does not need to see to know that Gari is flushed to her roots right now. Thank you, albinism, for making every single time the blood rushes painfully obvious.

When Gari speaks, it comes out cracked. "Hey, don't tease."

Anna laughs then. She shifts back to settle more comfortably, her head on the pillow and Gari's arm tucked under Anna's neck. Anna's front is pressed tightly to Gari's neck, to the extent that she knows Gari can feel every curve and bump against her.

Anna throws an arm across Gari's waist. "I'm not. You were really amazing just now."

"You didn't even pay attention to the game," Gari accuses. "You never did care about sports."

"I didn't," Anna admits, "but I was still watching you."

She hears Gari's breath hitches, and looks up; Gari's eyes are blown wide and glinting with something Anna now recognises as wonder.

"You," Gari begins. "Why do you always look at me like that?"

"Like what?"

Gari's face burns darker. "That. Damn it, just look at yourself right now."

Anna's mirror, sadly, is built into the inner door of her cupboard. "I don't feel like moving," she retorts, tugging Gari by the waist to press her in even more.

"Hell, Anya, you can't just do that," Gari swears, and in a sudden burst of movement, flips over to straddle Anna's hips, before leaning down and kisses her.

The kiss is sloppy, and much more frantic than Anna expected. Gari has one hand fisted on the neck of her shirt and the other sliding down the curve of her ribs, the heat soaking through her clothes and lingering on her skin before dissipating all too quickly. Anna retaliates by looping a leg around Gari and presses her down by the small of her back.

Gari _slides,_ until she melts onto Anna, legs intersecting and fingers rubbing absent-mindedly. She has stopped kissing, but their mouths are still pressed together, open with short huffs of breath mingling together.

"Anya-" Gari whispers, only for the door to slam open right then.

Anna yelps, and in a swift instinctive move shoves Gari off. Gari _squawks_ as she scrambles for purchase, nails scratching onto bed sheets before she tumbles down onto the floor with a loud thump.

Ilia stands by the door. "Well, I guess she did warn me," he says.

"Ilia, you _cockblocker,_ " Gari groans from her painful position on the ground.

"Wrong anatomy," Natalya chirps as she pops her head in. "Unless there is something you're not telling me."

Anna shrieks. "Does it matter?!"

Ilia wrinkles his forehead. "I don't know, Anya, sexuality is a very complicated thing. If you are fine with it-"

"Nah, Anya is completely _against_ dicks. I've verified," Gari interrupts as she rolls over to her knees.

Natalya, the nerve of her, looks _curious._ Anna thinks she might burst a vessel first, or migrate away from all this embarrassment to Tibet to become a nun. "How?" she demands, eyes lighting up. "We are going to sit down, and you are going to tell me _everything._ "

"Wow, Natasha." Ilia nods solemnly. "That's intense."

"It is very important." Natalya nods back equally solemnly.

"Will someone finally tell me what is going on?" Anna complains.

Gari sulks. "We got cockblocked."

"Still wrong anatomy, Gari. Did you skip the sex ed classes?" Ilia frowns. "I remember that they did very clearly point out the different genitals."

Anna buries her face in her hands. "Why are you like this."

"Actually, Mama gave us a Look," Natalya explains, "and we decide to uphold our chivalrous duty to protect our sister's virtue."

"Our favourite neighbour Mrs Stratford also stress-baked too much pastries, and gave some to us," Ilia adds.

Anna has never seen Gari sit up so quickly. "Do we have oreo cheesecakes?"

Ilia nods.

Gari bounces up and scrambles out of the room without another word.

"Well," says Natalya.


	3. Interlude: Gari

Gari grows up watching her sisters put on make-up.

She will stand on tip-toes at the side of the vanity, craning her neck to get a better look of all the brushes and palettes on the table. The powder scatters in huffs and puffs, drifting through the air to dust the surface of everything in its path. The sweetened-flour scent of it tickles Gari's nose, and she will try very, _very hard_ not to sneeze as, one after the other, the sisters trace their eyeliners and curl with mascara.

Then her sisters, one by one, flutters out and away from the room. Gari always catches the last one leaving with a needy tug at the skirt, and demands to try out the make-up.

 _I want to paint myself in colours too,_ says little Gari, _I want to have colours other than white and pink and red._

The sister will laugh, the same tinkling way like all her other sisters, with the same crinkle at the edge of the eye and the flash of white teeth tucked behind the plushness of red lips. Her face then mellows into a smile, and it is at this point in Gari's memory that this face and all her other sisters' faces swirl together until they make up a single hybrid: sweet, beautiful creatures with perfect smiles and perfect bodies and eyes that seem to radiate light from within; when they move they move as one, with grace and confidence and such synchronisation that sometimes they seem to be part of a single glorious entity called _her sisters._

Then, they will try to smooth out the tangles of Gari's hair the way little children's hair do, and say:

_Maybe when you're older, alright? I'll lend you my stuff._

But somewhere along the length of time called life, her sisters disappeared one by one, into the soil or the ambiguity of a world so big, and Gari is the only sister left as she stares at the almost empty tubes of lipstick stacked neatly on the flaking skin of the vanity.

Her phone buzzes. It's Anna, with her not-red eyes and gold-tinted hair and new lipsticks of purple and orange bases that scatters across her bedstead, because Anna _never_ bothers to be organised.

Gari sends in a quick reply, and leaves the room. 

* * *

Lucía's look of disapproval is enough to send the hardest of men grovelling at her feet, but as it is, her closest friends have developed a weird form of immunity towards it. "Must you smoke?" she complains, but sprawls herself beside them anyway.

Marianne titters. "We blow the smoke out of the window," she says, resting her temple on the back of her hand, the cigarette a few spare inches away from burning her pretty face.

And Marianne _is_ ridiculously pretty, with her dark blonde curls on her head and pubes, and the soft smoothness of the rest of her body. Her skin _glows_ under light. She's like a Greek goddess, and Gari struggles to think of one that suits the lazy grace that Marianne manages to wield like a Queen's trailing robes. Her back arches like it's carved, and as she turns now to stare better at Lucía, Gari's eyes are irrevocably drawn to the smooth lines of Marianne's neck that slopes down to Marianne's bare chest.

"It's the principle of the thing," Lucía argues without much heat. "And put on a shirt."

"It's too hot today," Marianne answers, ignoring the fact that living on the eighth storey of an apartment tends to, at the very least, ensures wind.

Gari laughs, instead, because god forbids anyone tries to tell Marianne what to do; it's like ordering the Sun to be less bright, or, or tell a peacock to be less vain - a stupid idea in every sense of it. When a girl has beauty and she knows it, she also knows that if she flaunts it right, it becomes an all-access pass to most things in life.

When she voices it out, Marianne frowns - still prettily - and kicks Gari's shin. "I'm more than just my looks." She turns her nose up.

"Yes, but you do still know that you're very pretty," Gari retorts.

Lucía snorts. "You can probably cause wars if you're born centuries earlier. Like Helen of Troy." She ponders.

Gari shakes her head. "I always thought Aphrodite is the real culprit," she argues, "because she caused the whole event when Paris gave her the apple. Helen is simply born beautiful. Aphrodite bribed Paris by offering Helen's love. Cunning, that girl."

Marianne frowns. "Is there a point to this whole conversation, or are we going to be pretentious for the rest of the day?"

"Ah, but we are comparing which of these femme fatale most represent you," Lucía drawls, "what do you think, Gari? Which women?"

"Huh." Gari cocks her head to the side. "Personally I think it's Aphrodite. She is not the _tragic figure_ kind, if you get what I mean? More of the, cackle wildly as she watch men fight over a conflict she caused. You know."

Lucía sighs mournfully. "I do."

"Thankfully then," Marianne retorts, huffing, "I'm born in _this_ century." She extinguishes her cigarette on the windowsill. "It's _my_ bedroom," she says petulantly when Gari raises an eyebrow. "And the ashtray is too far."

Gari leans to the side, and smothers her own cigarette in the bronzed tray.

"Oh, screw you," Marianne scoffs, languidly stretching her back before reclining with both arms hanging out of the window. "Anyway, what are you doing here today? Don't you normally reserve your Wednesdays for your darling-" She flutters her eyelashes before purring, " _Anya_?"

Fuck Marianne's Roaring Twenties charm. The smoke lingering in the air is _not_ helping. "I'm not always with her."

"Yes," says Lucía, "if we ignore Tuesday, Thursday, late night phone calls, and the occasional betrayal when you skip our Friday lounging _tradition_ to go over to her house."

"She's my best friend."

"Your keeper, more like." Marianne snorts. "Aren't we your best friends too? And you choose her over us. What about the, what, _bros over hoes_ thing?"

" _You're_ the hoes," Gari corrects, and bursts out laughing at how both heads immediately swerve to display their most scandalised expression. "My favourite hoes," she adds affectionately, "I patronise you two the most often amongst all my girls."

"Your humour is so rude," Marianne mutters under her breath, and kicks Gari in the shins again. Lucía laughs, and leans just the tiniest bit closer to Marianne. Gari pretends not to notice.

* * *

Some time later, Gari's phone buzzes with a message and a subsequent call from Anna, and leaves the room amidst teasing catcalls and eyebrow wriggles to take the call. When she finally hangs up, however, she pauses by the door.

Marianne is still staring down at the streets, but Lucía, she is leaning against Marianne's back, her cheek cushioned at the curve of the spine as she thumbs at the dip where Marianne's bones slips into the curve of her ass. And then, Lucía turns her head, just a little, to press her lips at the soft wisps of baby hair at the very bottom edge of the hairline, and Marianne _shivers._

 _Oh,_ Gari thinks, and waits for a whole thirty seconds before taking particularly heavy footsteps and swinging the door open loudly. Lucía and Marianne keeps an obvious gap between them, as though they haven't been close to making out just less than a minute ago.

"So, the wife's calling," Marianne teases, and Lucía punches her on the shoulder. "Ouch."

"I wish," Gari retorts, and feels a vague smugness when Marianne's eyes widen in surprise. " _Don't_ say a thing to her."

Lucía waves it off like it's a given, and pats the space between herself and Marianne. Gari steps in front of them, hesitates, and settles across them both instead. If they noticed, they pretended not to painfully well.

* * *

Anna has her hair tied in a sleek, tall ponytail today, her straight hair sliding like a fluttering shawl down her back.

Gari reaches out to run her fingers through them. The slight chill between her fingers is pleasing. Then Anna tilts head, and Gari mourns the loss as the hair slips away only to splay partially on Anna's shoulders.

Gosh, why is everyone around Gari so _pretty?_

The thought slinks back to the afternoon, and Gari's mood dampens again.

"Anya," she says. Frowns. Tastes the name in her mouth again. "Hey, _Ahn_ -ya." That's better, when the name is called with its supposed accent and breathed out with more huff at the roof of the mouth.

 _Ahn-ya_ turns to look at Gari. Her hair slips further down across her collar bone and into her shirt. Gari adamantly refuses to stare, and instead focuses back to her question.

"Did you know Mari and Luci-" Gari tries to gesture her agitation. "-are dating?"

Anna shrugs. "Is it."

"Don't you care?" Gari presses. "We're a trio since forever, and now two of them suddenly have _a thing,_ and they are obviously trying to ignore it. It's too sad to watch. I." She thins her lips. "I can't believe they didn't tell me."

"Everyone's entitled to their own secrets," Anna says, and glances back at her physics practices. "Maybe they do not want to drag you into their romantic entanglements until they sort things out."

Gari groans. "You're missing the point."

"I'm not. I think _you_ have actually seen this coming all along, and they know that, but you are in denial, and now you are forced to _stop_ being in denial."

And here is the painful part: Anna is right. She hits the nail right on with the correct force and the correct angle, and drives this stupid metaphorical nail straight into Gari's heart where it hurts most, and does not know how to use tact to soften the blow.

Then again, Anna's policy has always been blunt truth at all cost.

Gari continues to sulk. Anna starts to work on the questions.

Gari groans again, leaning back until she flops on the bed. The bed is soft, and she bounces slightly before the spring settles. Gari turns her head; Anna is still concentrating on her equations. Gari faces the wall instead. She starts to wonder why she has come. Then she thinks back to Lucía's hands curling around Marianne's waist, and yeah, she prefers Anna's distanced company alright.

She looks back at Anna again. When Anna is concentrating, she looks even more detached from the world than she usually does, eyebrows furrowed and the back of her pen nibbed between her lips. There is this air of isolation, that everything that matters narrow down to Anna and her object of concentration, this suffocating intensity that renders everything else minuscule in a much grander scale, whatever the scale is.

With Anna, Gari thinks, is always as though the world has narrowed down to only the most intimate of relations.

The thing about Anna is that she simply does not care. This is what Anna's world consists of: her, her family, and Gari; everyone else exists on the edges, moving closer or away according to their importance to Anna's immediate life.

Sometimes, it is like Anna doesn't really _live_ in the real world _,_ but rather a kind of constructed reality, in which Anna is able to shut out everything that is not actively _related_ to herself.

Gari wishes she has the same ability to just fucking _detach_ from everything she doesn't want to feel.

"Anya," she says again _._

Anna looks up, again.

"What?" Anna asks, forehead creasing.

Gari decides to go for the needy girlfriend route, regardless of the fact that Gari is neither Anna's girlfriend _nor_ does she actually require constant validation. "Hug me?"

Anna gives her a strange look, but smiles fondly as she concedes, and stretches out both arms as she shifts over to the bed. She tucks Gari under her chin, rubbing warm circles at the small of Gari's back. The heat seeps through her clothes into skin and then _under,_ and Gari feels like she can melt into a warm puddle of goo right then and stay in Anna's arms _forever._

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, if she dares to admit to herself, Gari finds that she may be a little too in love with Anna.

* * *

When Gari heads home, the dinner is cooling in the fridge. Mutti has already gone to sleep. Vati is in the office sorting through mails.

Ludwig, though, is washing the dishes. When Gari throws her arm from behind, he jolts and almost drops the plates.

"You're early today," he says, quickly recovering even though his cheeks are still flushed with embarrassment. Gari grins. "I should have left out the dishes."

"It's fine, I'm not hungry," Gari chirps, sliding away to sit by the dining table. "You should wear gloves."

"I don't have a pair. It's not like I was expecting the dishwasher to break down."

"Smartass."

"Instead of commenting, you can help me with the dishes?"

"No." Gari pouts. "Today is a sad day."

It's rather amusing how quickly Ludwig can wash _and_ dry his hands before spinning around dramatically like a big reveal in a play. He immediately pulls out a chair, leaning forward as he asks, "What happened?"

Gari really, _really,_ likes the fact that she has the world's most attentive and supportive brother. "Anya."

"Oh."

"Yes, _oh._ " Gari sighs. "I think I am going to ask her out."

Ludwig's eyebrows raised so high it almost disappeared into his hairline, and that hairline is very high indeed because years of constant hair gel has frozen his fringe into growing naturally backwards.

"No, you - don't look at me like that. I'm really going to do it this time. I have already sought her siblings' blessings."

"Gari, you are not asking for permission to _marry_ her. You don't need anyone's _blessings_ to ask someone out."

"It's _Anya._ " She buries her face in her palms. "Everything about her is always _serious_ to me." She peeks out between her fingers.

Ludwig has this weird pinched expression that makes him look like he's trying to resist farting. Except, Ludwig has too much dignity in him to ever engage in such coarse human actions. "Gari," he begins, very solemnly, "you are absolutely whipped."

"I have not even come out to Mutti and Vati yet," Gari groans.

"Come out what?" Vati says, his voice booming from the kitchen door. His lips are pressed into a thin, strict line.

Ludwig makes a painful noise in the back of his throat.

Gari gulps, tries on her most innocent smile, and says, "Hi, Vati, surprise surprise: I like girls."


End file.
